inn—except that there are no servants rushing forward,” she said to Charlotte. And she added that that was very charming. Gertrude explained to her sister that she meant just the reverse; she didn’t like it at all. Charlotte inquired why she should tell an untruth, and Gertrude answered that there was probably some very good reason for it which they should discover when they knew her better. “There can surely be no good reason for telling an untruth,” said Charlotte. “I hope she does not think so.”

They had of course desired, from the first, to do everything in the way of helping her to arrange herself. It had seemed to Charlotte that there would be a great many things to talk about; but the Baroness was apparently inclined to talk about nothing.

“Write her a note, asking her leave to come and see her. I think that is what she will like,” said Gertrude.

“Why should I give her the trouble of answering me?” Charlotte asked.

“She will have to write a note and send it over.”

“I don’t think she will take any trouble,” said Gertrude, profoundly.

“What then will she do?”

“That is what I am curious to see,” said Gertrude, leaving her sister with an impression that her curiosity was morbid.

They went to see the Baroness without preliminary correspondence; and in the little salon which she had already created, with its becoming light and its festoons, they found Robert Acton.

Eugenia was intensely gracious, but she accused them of neglecting her cruelly. “You see Mr. Acton has had to take pity upon me,” she said. “My brother goes off sketching, for hours; I can never depend upon him. So I was to send Mr. Acton to beg you to come and give me the benefit of your wisdom.”

Gertrude looked at her sister. She wanted to say, “_That_ is what she would have done.” Charlotte said that they hoped the Baroness would always come and dine with them; it would give them so much pleasure; and, in that case, she would spare herself the trouble of having a cook.

“Ah, but I must have a cook!” cried the Baroness. “An old negress in a yellow turban. I have set my heart upon that. I want to look out of my window and see her sitting there on the grass, against the background of those crooked, dusky little apple 

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